


sink into tomorrow

by brainwaves



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Body Image, Body Worship, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, F/F, Female Harry, Female Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Genderswap, Girl Direction, Lesbian Sex, Making Out, Meeting the Parents, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pining, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Taylor Swift is in it like super briefly, Vaginal Fingering, idk i guess, sort of??, they live in America fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2781281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainwaves/pseuds/brainwaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For the past five years, she’s been tiptoeing carefully around the subject, steadfastly refusing to talk about the possibility, and putting up a front to hide what she was always terrified of feeling. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Maybe Louis was just the final push she needed. She tries to see this less as a death sentence and more as an opportunity to tell the truth for once.</i>
</p><p>Harry is the new (supposedly heterosexual) freshman who gets convinced by pretty blue eyes and soft skin to join a club about body positivity and self-image. Louis is the definitely-not-male upperclassman who makes her come to terms with some things she's been denying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sink into tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zouisau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisau/gifts).



> One of the prompts was just for some girl!direction with friends to lovers, so I just kind of took that and ran with it, throwing in a bit of Christmas-themed fluff at the end. I spent a lot of time on this and I _hope_ it turned out alright! I couldn't have done it without my wonderful, beautiful, fantastic beta! Thank you so so much for sticking with me the whole way through and helping me get finish this and sharing my excitement over the eventual smut. I love you lots and lots.
> 
> Okay, enough of my rambling. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>  **UPDATE:** This was previously titled 'look like a dream' but I really didn't like it, so it's been changed! The new title is from My Propeller by Arctic Monkeys.

_**“You are imperfect, permanently and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful.”** _   
_**― Amy Bloom** _

 

It’s the end of Harry’s first week of living on campus, and she’s far more anxious than excited, contrary to what everyone else around her appears to be feeling. It’s Friday night, the night of the big club fair that everyone’s been raving about since the moment she stepped on campus. There’s supposed to be some type of parade downtown afterwards, complete with fireworks and some small floats. According to her floor’s RA, a lanky girl with raven hair named Zayn, it’s supposed to be the college’s way of ushering in the new school year. To Harry, it sounds more like they’re celebrating the last wisps of summer freedom before everyone has to be subjected to mass amounts of stress and coursework. At this point, to say she’s a little apprehensive would be an understatement.

Still, she’s got a full-ride scholarship  that includes a decent-sized dorm room, even if her roommate has no concept of personal space and vehemently denies that she snores like a strangled dinosaur. Niall is a nice girl, but Harry’s always been more of an introvert, despite having a personality that could charm the pants off of almost anyone. Going into university, Harry’s got some great advantages on her side, but it’s still proving to be quite a challenge to adjust there for her.

The clocktower-slash-library adjacent to their dorm hall begins to ring out in announcement of another passing hour, five loud tolls in uniform succession. The sound echoes across the surrounding grounds, white noise blending in with the chatter of crowds scattered across the campus. So close to the start of the club fair, the university is currently crawling with people, students and visitors alike, but Harry remains in the confines of her dorm, watching from behind a window.

Niall rustles around on the other end of the room, fixing her makeup in the reflection of a vanity mirror. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me and Babs? Last chance, kid.”

Harry twists around at her perch on the bed by the window, sending a half-hearted smile in the direction of her roommate. A stray lock of hair falls in her face, which she tucks back behind her ear. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to pass. I’m sure that you and Barbara will find plenty of ways to... _Have fun_.”

Her suggestive tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Niall. Harry dodges a projectile shoe and grins at the blushing blonde.

“Fuck you,” Niall huffs, the heading over to catch an amused Harry off guard with an abrupt hug. “Let the record show that I offered repeatedly to rescue you from a lonely night of watching reruns of that lesbian prison show all by yourself in our room.”

Indignant, Harry smacks Niall on the arm, wriggling out of her hold. “Hey, that show is gold and you know it.”

Niall giggles to herself, scampering out of reach. The glitter she smeared over her eyelids sparkles as she flutters her lashes innocently, grabbing her purse off her dresser on her way out the door. “I hope you enjoy your lesbians.”

“I hope you enjoy yours too,” Harry calls to her roommate’s retreating figure, catching sight of a middle finger before the door shuts. She can hear Niall’s laugh from the hallway.

*

The plaza is teeming with bodies, packing Harry into the sea of people the moment she enters the area of activity. She goes with the flow of the crowd along the lines of club booths, pausing every now and then to snatch up pamphlets and brochures whenever she spots an interesting one. A couple times, she actually goes as far as nudging her way out of the crowd to stop at a booth if it’s intriguing enough. (She’s never had any particular interest in anime or manga yet she stops at the Otaku Society’s booth and takes at least fifteen minutes to have a discussion with the club president Aimee about the pros and cons of Sailor Moon. She tucks their colorful flyer into her leather satchel and promises to attend their first meeting next week.)

The Latino Appreciation Club is friendly and hands Harry both a yellow pamphlet and a free cup of horchata, the flavor melting into her taste buds from the first sip. She talks with someone at the campus radio station’s booth, despite her lack of interest in broadcasting or being a radio DJ, and hums appreciatively at a guitarist strumming a tune behind the Acoustic Music Club’s table. A kind-faced boy sitting at the LGBTQ+ Movement’s brightly-decorated booth gives Harry a warm smile and hands her a flyer, even though she only stands there silently for a few moments, pink-faced and uncertain. She takes it hastily and carries on, trying to forget about it and not think too hard about why she stopped there in the first place.

The Club Fair has been going on for about an hour by the time Harry is reaching the last booths on the west end of the plaza. There aren’t as many people congregated here, so she can move more freely and at her own pace, strolling along leisurely as she checks out each table.

It’s the one covered with soft green paper that catches her eyes. A pink banner hangs off the front edge, bold black letters reading in cursive, “Body Positivity Association.” She quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, and shuffles forward.

“Hi there!” a friendly voice greets her. The speaker appears to be one of the three girls sitting behind the table, a young woman with wavy brown hair twisted into a braid and a birthmark on her neck, currently reaching into a large container of baked goods. Warm eyes lock with Harry’s, prompting her to come closer and accept the pink-frosted cupcake the girl is offering her. Strands of white icing spell out “BODY+” across the top in sugary bubble letters, emphasized with two circles of red icing bordering the surface. Harry bites off the plus sign as she fidgets.

“My name is Liam Payne and I’m the event coordinator of the Body Positivity Association, a group focused on promoting positive attitudes towards bodies of all types, shapes, and sizes, and healthy, strong self-esteems,” the girl rattles off, polished and polite with her bright smile still fully intact. “Would you be interested in joining our cause? We love getting new members.”

An amused snort from beside Liam startles Harry, but she’s even more alarmed when she looks to the source. It’s the student slouching to the left of Liam, and when Harry actually focuses on the girl and drinks in the sight of soft caramel hair and shining blue eyes, she feels her insides twist and clench, warmth blossoming in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t want to think about what it means.

Before she can humiliate herself by doing something horrendous like trying to speak, the girl knocks her shoulder against Liam’s gently before getting to her feet with an amicable pat on Liam’s head, muttering, “You sound like you’re asking her to join a cult, not a club. Loosen up a bit.” Turning to Harry, the girl leans forward against the table and tilts her small pink mouth into a friendly smile, her tone comfortable and casual when she speaks. “I’m Louis, the association’s president-slash-figurehead. Enjoy that cupcake, take a pamphlet, and feel free to direct any questions you have towards me.”

“My name’s Harry,” the curly-haired girl murmurs quietly.

“What a lovely name, Harry,” Louis beams. Harry can’t tell if she’s serious or poking fun at her.

She glances down and takes one of the light purple pamphlets arranged artfully across the table’s surface. Her fingers flick through the pages, eyes skimming the words meant to reel in prospective members. “So… What exactly do you guys do when you… like, meet up and stuff?”

Louis crosses her arms over her well-worn hoodie, stance relaxed and expression kind. “It’s pretty casual, to be honest. Sometimes we meet at the library café, sometimes we hang out in the lounge over in Oxford Hall. Usually, we have discussions, play games, eat some good food, or do confidence-building exercises. Stuff like that.” She reaches up to adjust the gray beanie perched atop her head, Harry’s eyes following the movement before she blinks and realizes how eagerly Liam is watching her.

Flicking her eyes to the side, Harry notices another person heading over to the booth, arms carrying what appears to be another container of cupcakes. Hands occupied, the approaching girl flails her head around a bit to flick a piece of blond hair out of her eyes, huffing until she can dump the container onto the table.

“Perrie!” Louis greets the new girl warmly, clapping a hand against the blonde’s shoulder. “My trusty companion. Explain to Harry here why it’s a brilliant idea to join our club.”

The blonde, Perrie, shoots Harry a tired but kind smile and says simply, “We order two large pizzas from Pizza Hut for every meeting. It’s worth it, if only for the snacks.”

Despite the fluttery feeling in her belly that’s becoming increasingly uncomfortable, Harry gives Louis one more uncertain glance. Upon seeing the beautiful girl’s reassuring grin, Harry blows out a shaky sigh and picks up the white pen lying on the table, shuffling forward to write her name and school-appointed email address on the sign-up sheet. She pulls back once she finishes, setting the pen atop the plastic clipboard, and sends the three girls one last smile, which she’s positive looks awkward as hell, and starts to walk away from the booth and back towards her dorm, head lowered as she gnaws her bottom lip anxiously. She suddenly isn’t in the mood for socialization anymore.

Before she’s even three feet away, Harry hears Louis call out loudly to her retreating back, “Welcome to the club, Harry Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is!”

Without turning back, Harry answers with a soft, “It’s Styles,” and keeps walking. She tries to ignore the LGBTQ+ Movement pamphlet burning a hole in her bag.

*

At the first meeting, Harry is immensely relieved to find that there are at least twelve other unfamiliar girls attending, all looking almost as nervous as Harry feels, besides the three upperclassmen who are leading the meeting. Liam gives her an energetic wave, Perrie ruffles her curly hair as she passes by Harry, and Louis – well, when Louis meets her eyes from across the room and blows her a kiss with a playful smile, the fluttery feeling from the previous week comes back in full force.

With a disgruntled sound, Harry plops down in a pink beanbag chair next to the polka-dotted loveseat Niall and Barbara are occupying. The couple didn’t have any plans this evening, so Harry saw no reason why she shouldn’t forcibly drag Niall and her girlfriend along to the meeting with her.

The meeting is taking place in the lower level of the student center where there’s a large half-empty lounge with a small coffee shop in the corner. Harry has a moment to ponder the amount of lounges this campus has before the meeting officially commences.

Louis takes it upon herself to lead the introductions and explain the association’s purpose and goals, fitting in sarcastic jokes and jibes every now and then to make everyone relax and loosen up a bit. Then Liam steps forward to describe the kind of meetings and events they’ll be having over the course of the semester, presenting two warm boxes of pizza with a flourish once she’s done lamenting the loss of their wonderful former president, Jesy, who had graduated after last spring semester. Louis hip-checks her for that comment and begins doling out slices of cheese and pepperoni pizza to everyone on cute paper plates.

When their hands brush during the brief exchange, Harry blushes out of sheer nervous excitement, the flush deepening when Louis winks at her before moving on. Harry ignores the questioning look Niall sends her.

Perrie outlines what they’ll be doing for this meeting, which is apparently one of the “confidence-building exercises” Louis had mentioned in passing at the club fair. Handing out little slips of construction paper and cheap pens, Perrie explains, “First, number your paper from one to ten along the side. Once everyone’s done that, I’m going to set a timer on my phone for ten minutes. In that time, I want everyone to write down ten things that you like about yourself. It can be whatever the hell you want, whether you like your intelligence or think you have great legs. Just jot it down. If you have more than ten, then awesome, write as many more as you want.”

Harry can feel herself start to sweat once the instructions sink in, fingers trembling slightly as she starts numbering her piece of yellow paper. She can’t do this. She doesn’t _have_  ten things she likes about herself.

“Okay, everyone good? Go ahead and start.” Perrie starts the timer on her iPhone, setting the device down to begin writing on her own list.

As she looks around with wide eyes that probably look a bit too frantic to pass off as normal, Harry observes all the other girls diligently thinking to themselves and tentatively scribbling down points on their lists. Her gaze settles on Louis for longer than anyone else, embarrassed to note that the blue-eyed upperclassman was already looking curiously at Harry. They made eye contact, but Louis’s encouraging smile fell a little when she seemed to realize Harry wasn’t exactly looking happy or calm. Quickly, Harry averted her eyes back towards her paper and spent at least two minutes stewing in anxiety before finally writing down, “1. great family, 2. decent grades,” in a shaky scrawl. That was the most she could get in the full ten minutes, to her disappointment. She flipped over the pathetic list when the timer went off, feeling like a failure. Even Niall had a full list; then again, Harry already knew Niall had a more than healthy self-esteem, as did her girlfriend.

“Okay, everyone done?” Perrie asked. Seeing most of the girls nod, she continued, “Anyone feel like sharing something from their list?”

For the next few minutes, Harry sat in silence while students around her said that they liked their hair or thought their eyes were pretty. The more everyone praised themselves, the more Harry curled in on herself, wishing the beanbag would just swallow her whole so she could escape this. _Why in the world did she think this would be a good idea?_

Finally, Louis stood up from where she’d been sitting in a blue beanbag beside Perrie and Liam. “Okay, now we want everyone to pair up with someone they don’t know very well. Flip over your lists and number them from one to ten again on the blank side. Once you’re in pairs, we’ll start another timer and we want everyone to list ten things they like about their partner. After the ten minutes are up, we’ll share these lists with our partners.” Harry thinks she sees Louis glance in her direction, but her eyes flick away so fast that she’s not sure she didn’t just imagine it. “Sometimes we need someone else to boost our self-esteems a bit in order to start seeing more of the good stuff about ourselves.”

Immediately, Harry turns to Niall, despite the fact that they are in fact roommates, but the blonde has already wandered off to find someone new. Even Barbara sets off in search of a stranger. As everyone else bustles around and pairs up, Harry remains in the beanbag chair, sinking into the plush seat with embarrassment etched clear across her face as she stares resolutely down at her lap.

Not even ten seconds later, a shadow falls over Harry’s line of vision, prompting her to look up and see who’s looming over her.

“Hello again, Harry Styles,” Louis greets her with a grin. “Got enough room on that beanbag for another person? I know my ass is quite large and imposing, but I think I can make myself fit.” When Harry simply flushes and stares at her, brow furrowed in confusion, Louis bounces impatiently and says, not unkindly, “Hop to it, Harriet, scootch over.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, sorry,” Harry rushes to say, shifting herself over on the seat to make enough room for the older girl. Louis drops herself onto the beanbag, hip nudging against Harry’s as she settles in to get comfortable. The younger of the two feels her entire body flush with warmth when she feels their thighs press together, bodies aligned so closely on the small space that Harry can feel Louis’s soft hair brush against her shoulder.

Harry’s puzzled by Louis’s choice of a partner, but doesn’t protest out of fear that she’ll change her mind and go elsewhere. She doesn’t want to delve into it, not now and possibly not ever, but while the heat blooming behind her navel tells her to stay put and enjoy the closeness, her thoughts are as conflicted as ever. She doesn’t move away, but she can’t imagine Louis doesn’t notice the way her body tenses up a bit.

Perrie checks that everyone’s gotten into pairs and smiles at her partner, some sophomore with a blue streak in her hair, before starting the timer on her phone again.

As she fidgets and blushes awkwardly, Harry can feel Louis’s eyes glued to her face for the first minute or so. It’s only when she finally brings her eyes up to meet the other girl’s that Louis seems to snap out of it and finally look away, starting to write her list almost feverishly.

It might just be Harry’s wishful thinking, but Louis’s cheeks look rosier than usual.

Unlike the first list, this one isn’t very hard to complete. Trying not to dwell on how easy the words come to her, she lists everything from Louis’s feathery hair to the way her eyes crinkle up in the corners when she smiles. She jots down things like how warm and kind she is, what a pretty shade of blue her eyes are, and how soft and soothing her voice is. By the time the ten minutes are up, she has a total of eighteen points.

Both girls are blushing to different degrees as they swap papers, the tremble of Harry’s hands surely impossible to miss. Still, Louis simply gives her a comforting grin and begins to read, her smile and blush seeming to grow with every passing second.

Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm her nerves, Harry finally peers down at Louis’s messy handwriting and reads.

Curly hair. Really really pretty green eyes. Pretty attractive nice lips. Kind, even though she’s shy. Nice skin. Cute smile. Probably has a cute laugh too. Long nice legs. Unique style. Nice name. Long eyelashes. The little mole by her mouth. Sweet. I love her voice. Looks cute when she blushes. Dimples. Dimples. Dimples. Again, curly hair <3

By the end of it, Harry feels like her face is on fire, cheeks burning from feelings she can’t put a name to. She feels flattered, of course, and in disbelief that someone so lovely would say such nice things about her, but it’s more than that, somehow. Harry feels like an idiot for it, but she’s worried she might start crying. When her eyes lift to meet Louis’s again, she notes that the blue-eyed girl is noticeably blushing as well.

Neither of them say much afterwards, but Harry can’t stop herself from smiling when Louis reaches over to brush her hand against Harry’s. _Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all._

*

For the next few weeks, Harry regularly attends meetings with the Body Positivity Association, despite Niall’s refusal to join her again. She shows up to every meeting at least ten minutes early just to chat with Louis for a bit before it starts. At the fifth meeting, Louis greets her with a warm smile and offers her one of the two mocha frappuccinos she’s holding. She doesn’t let Harry leave without exchanging phone numbers.

After that, two things happen.

Louis starts texting her every day, random things like, “i’m pretty sure my lit professor hates my guts and wants to suffocate me with my own failed exam” and, “did you know wheat bread isn’t actually good for you???” They maintain an ongoing conversation about nothing and everything, tentative friendship strengthening with every random text or daily update on how classes are going.

The other thing that happens is the change in Louis’s physical behavior around Harry. Whenever they’re together for meetings or simply hanging out, it’s as if Harry has her own gravitational pull and Louis can’t stay away or resist from squeezing in little touches and brushes of skin, whether it’s raking her fingers through Harry’s hair or just nudging her knuckles gently against Harry’s arm.

By the second week of October, it’s gotten to the point that Liam stares at them when they’re together and Perrie smirks whenever Louis bounds over to Harry in excitement at the start of every meeting. After Harry quietly confesses to Niall that she and Louis seem to be getting pretty close friends, Niall stares blankly at her and insists on going to the next meeting to see for herself. She ends up teasing Harry about it for at least an hour and a half afterwards, pretending to swoon over Harry’s curly hair and stroking her shoulders.

Harry doesn’t mind it, though. She doesn’t.

But she knows something’s changed when, for the first time since the club fair, Harry dips into the bottom of her satchel and pulls out the crinkled LGBTQ+ Movement pamphlet. She makes note of the day and time of their weekly meetings and inputs the next meeting into her calendar with shaking hands.

*

Attending the LGBTQ+ Movement meeting on Thursday is probably one of the worst and best things that’s ever happened to Harry, besides meeting Louis.

She wasn’t at any of the past meetings, so she simply gapes for a second at the sheer amount of people in the room and awkwardly fits herself into a seat towards the back, trying to blend in and not draw any attention to herself. Of course, with her luck, the first thing the person next to her does is turn towards Harry and introduce herself as Taylor.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the girl remarks, staring inquisitively at Harry.

“I, erm, hadn’t gone to any of the other meetings,” Harry mumbles, fidgeting with the drawstring of her purple hoodie.

“Oh, well, welcome!” Taylor beams, expression kind enough to make Harry relax just a bit. “So what are you, then?”

Harry blinks, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Like, where do you fit into the spectrum?” the blonde elaborates, still waiting expectantly for an answer. She seems genuinely curious, but Harry still doesn’t particularly understand the question. When it’s apparent that Harry isn’t about to answer, Taylor supplies, “I’m bisexual. So what are you?”

Harry’s eyes grow wide with comprehension, feeling like her blood has frozen and turned to stone in her veins. “Oh, I’m, um, I’m not, like…” She trails off, feeling her anxiety starting to rise up.

Taylor’s expression is tinged with concern. “You okay? You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Luckily for Harry, the meeting is called to a start just then, cutting off any incoherent response Harry could have given. Unluckily for Harry, one of the first things the president says, right after the friendly welcome, is, “So do we have any new faces in the group tonight?”

Apparently, it’s customary for new members to introduce themselves to the group, including their name, class standing, and position on the spectrum, as she learns from watching several people stand and offer the information.

Harry is trembling out of sheer apprehension, trying to curl in on herself to appear as small and unremarkable as possible, as someone named Chris introduces themselves as trans and a senior.

“Harry here is new!” Taylor offers, voice loud enough to carry towards the front of the room.

To her horror, a majority of the people in the room turn around or crane their necks to see who Taylor is talking about. The blonde nudges Harry, trying to encourage her to stand up and introduce herself. On shaking legs, Harry pushes herself up and is rooted to the spot, cheeks flaming and eyes wide with shock. “Um, I’m – I’m… Harry,” she croaks, wishing she could just melt into the floor. “I-I’m, erm, a fr-freshman. And – I, um…”

“Go on,” Taylor murmurs encouragingly, reaching up to pat Harry’s back.

 _Fuck_. Harry was so not prepared for this. Not once had she even considered that going to the meeting would require her to decide on the spot what her sexuality is, what the little touches from Louis might make her feel, what the warmth in her belly whenever she’s around Louis might mean. But…

The president seems to sense that Harry is extremely unsure and uncomfortable, reassuring her kindly, “It’s not mandatory to say what sexuality or gender you are or anything. You can sit down if you aren’t comfortable saying.”

But somehow, Harry has a feeling that she needs to do this.

For the past five years, she’s been tiptoeing carefully around the subject, steadfastly refusing to talk about the possibility, and putting up a front to hide what she was always terrified of feeling. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Maybe Louis was just the final push she needed. She tries to see this less as a death sentence and more as an opportunity to tell the truth for once.

“I’m… I think I might… Um, I might, like – I’m gay,” she finally blurts, feeling like she might _actually_  melt right into the floor.

For the first few seconds, Harry can’t hear anything but the sound of her own fast, shallow breathing, pulse thrumming with something like fear. It’s when she forces herself to take deep breaths and clasp her quaking palms together to stop the tremors that she realizes with a start that the others are… They’re _clapping_. They’re clapping for _her_.

Harry collapses into her chair again, eyes round with shock and trepidation. Some people look like they could care less about what just happened, but most of them are smiling reassuringly and offering words of encouragement and comfort. Words of praise.

Taylor throws an arm over Harry’s shoulder and congratulates her, beaming at her with what looks like pride in her eyes, despite being a stranger.

At the front, the president is smiling and declaring loudly, “Well, I think we just witnessed someone coming out for the first time! That’s awesome. And unexpected. Congratulations!”

It’s terrifying and wonderful and Harry’s never felt so fucking liberated.

*

Harry calls Louis on her way back to her dorm from the meeting, feeling full and more complete than she has in years. One hand is stuffed inside her hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, trying to stave off the cold air nipping at her skin, while the other is unsteadily dialing the number she’s memorized by heart.

It only rings twice before Louis’s exuberant voice, carrying over random background noise, is greeting her. “Harry! You’re calling me! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” She sounds possibly drunk.

“Are you drunk?”

Louis hums, like she’s thinking about it. “Y’know, I just might be.” Then she audibly brightens. “You should be drunk too, Harry! Harry, come to me.”

Lips curving into an amused smile, Harry shakes her head at the ground and keeps her tone gentle and placating when she says, “No, thank you, Lou. Call me tomorrow when you wake up, alright? I’ll help you nurse the hangover you’re going to have.”

Louis scoffs. “Louis Tomlinson does not get hangovers, Harry. Who do you think you are, suggesting such a thing?”

“See you tomorrow, Louis.”

She sniffs and gives a soft hiccup. “Can’t wait! Love you, Harriet–”

The line cuts off abruptly, engulfing the evening in silence, only broken every now and then by the faraway sounds of beeping cars and people hollering. Harry spends a solid three minutes standing motionless in the middle of the sidewalk and smiling dopily at her phone before she finally makes her way home.

*

The next morning, Harry is shoveling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth with her eyes fixed blankly on an incomprehensible physics textbook when her phone goes off. Trying to make sure the ringtone doesn’t wake up Niall (she had come home at some point last night while Harry was half-asleep, had immediately fallen into her bed with a wistful sigh, and is now still stuck in some sort of sex-slash-alcohol-induced coma), Harry flings her hand out and answers without checking the caller I.D. She already knows who it is even before she hears Louis groaning excessively through the receiver.

“Sleep well?” Harry teases, keeping her voice at a murmur. On the other side of the room, Niall snuffles in her sleep and flops over on her bed.

Louis lets loose a miserable-sounding moan, whining plaintively, “Harry, I feel like shit. Come fix it.”

“On my way, Lou,” Harry answers quietly, already tucking her textbook back into her desk drawer and dumping her dishes into the bin by their mini-fridge. She’s just wearing eggplant-colored leggings and a white tank top, so she slips her feet into a fluffy pair of boots sitting by her bed. “Want me to bring anything in particular?”

“Just your cuddly, beautiful self,” Louis replies in a half-hearted grumble, making heat flare pleasantly in Harry’s cheeks as she digs in her dresser for her favorite big black sweater. “Actually, bring that vanilla chai tea I like,” Louis amends. “I could use some right now.”

Harry breathes out a soft laugh just as her fingers find the soft, well-worn material she was seeking. “Whatever you want, Louis. I only exist to satisfy your needs.” It isn’t until after she’s said it that it strikes Harry how suggestive that sounds.

Even as Harry is stuttering out some nonsense to try to cover it up, Louis is chortling on the other end, the sound of her laughter bringing a smile to Harry’s face, even when she still feels embarrassed. “Ah, Styles, you’re the best,” Louis says between throaty chuckles. She sniffles unhappily for a second once her laughs have died down. “Text me when you’re here and I’ll let you in, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” is Harry’s quiet reply. “See you soon.” Once she’s hung up and set the phone down on top of her dresser, she tugs on her sweater, letting it hang to the middle of her thighs, and settles the nearest beanie on her head. She thinks it might actually belong to Niall, but Niall isn’t exactly conscious enough to stop her from wearing it today. The last things she does before leaving are twist a thick orange scarf around her neck, grab the tea Louis requested, and straighten Niall’s blanket on top of her.

Since Louis lives in one of the apartment complexes on the outskirts of the east side of campus and Harry lives in one of the dorm halls farthest away from it, she’s forced to ride the too-warm cramped bus to get there. She could walk, but it’s not even eleven o’clock on a Friday morning, one of the only days that she has no classes until the evening, so she’d rather avoid any and all unnecessary physical exertion that she can. It takes about sixteen minutes for the bus to arrive across the street from Louis’s complex, and then it takes another couple of minutes for Harry to safely cross the street and make her way up to the third level of Louis’s building.

“Lou, open up, it’s me,” Harry calls out, rapping her knuckles against the burgundy-painted door gently. She can hear muted shuffling coming from beyond the door.

“What’s the password?” Louis answers, her voice muffled by the wood. She sounds like shit.

Harry rolls her eyes. “I have your tea.”

The door immediately flies open at that, to the surprise of absolutely no one, to reveal the cutest version of Louis that Harry has ever witnessed. There’s a red beanie perched atop her ruffled case of bedhead, eyes soft and sleepy, squinting a bit against the too-bright-for-a-hangover sunlight streaming in through the doorway. She has a blanket draped around her shoulders, pulled closed over her body, and the only part of her that Harry can really see below her neck are her bare calves and small feet encased in fluffy bear slippers. It takes a mountain of restraint to keep Harry from just diving in for a standing cuddle right there in the entryway.

“You may enter, tiny mortal,” Louis allows, shuffling to the side to let Harry through and closing the door after her.

“Pretty sure I’m taller than you,” Harry protests mildly, following Louis into her cluttered kitchenette.

“I have the biggest personality,” Louis insists. “And the biggest boobs.” Well. No argument there.

The older of the two starts searching for her tea kettle, ordering Harry to set down her canister of tea bags on the counter. Not that there’s a whole lot of space to put it. Harry nearly falls and faceplants when she stumbles over a pile of magazines lying on the floor next to the oven. “I swear, one day, I’m going to come in here and clean up your ridiculous mess,” she mutters under her breath.

“You will do no such thing.” There are a few moments of quiet rustling as Louis prepares her tea and Harry stands by and watches patiently. They’re both keeping their voices to a low volume, Louis because hangovers mean she gets headaches easily from loud noises and Harry because she’s fully aware of it and doesn’t want to give her a migraine.

They head over to Louis’s bedroom once she has a full mug of piping hot vanilla chai tea in her hands, having tied the corners of her blanket around her neck to wear it like a cape. It means the blanket parts more over her front and gives Harry a view of the old band tee and frog-patterned pajama shorts her friend is wearing. She tries to not be abnormally endeared by it. She fails.

They snuggle up together in Louis’s bed, the covers all messed up to form a nest atop her mattress. Once they’re settled into the pile of blankets, Louis leans her head against Harry’s shoulder and shuts her eyes, her voice nearly a whisper when she speaks. “Thanks for coming, Harry.”

There are at least a thousand things Harry could and probably should say in response to that. Among those things would probably be a, “You’re welcome,” or, “No problem,” or, “Happy to be of service.” What actually comes out of her mouth is none of those.

“I’m gay.”

Harry isn’t sure what she’s expecting to happen next, but it’s certainly not for Louis to lean back up and look at her with absolutely no signs of surprise or shock on her face. Like, she wasn’t expecting Louis to lash out or push her away or anything, but she figured at least a bit of surprise would register. It is some rather heavy news, after all. At least it is in Harry’s eyes.

“Okay… And?” Louis prompts, looking a bit perplexed now when Harry doesn’t say anything further.

“And I’m gay,” Harry reiterates, brow furrowing with a bit of mild frustration. The younger girl can feel herself growing slightly agitated. Part of her feels relief for the lack of negative reaction, but another part of her is bothered by the complete lack of any reaction at all. “Why are you acting as if it’s no surprise at all?” she grumbles, feeling put-off.

“Because I already knew,” Louis says, expression still tinged with puzzlement. “I thought it was common knowledge…” She trails off when she sees the flush tinting Harry’s cheeks cotton candy pink, reaching up to gently graze a knuckle over the heated skin, the touch as light as a feather and absent-minded. Despite feeling confused and a bit tingly, Harry still leans into the touch like it’s pure instinct. “Was it not?” Louis murmurs, voice dropping even lower.

Instead of answering verbally, Harry shakes her head slowly, hands starting to quake lightly where they’re fiddling with the end of her scarf. “I, um – I didn’t really… Admit it to myself until last night?” The nervous inflection makes it sound like a question. “I went to the LGBTQ+ meeting and they, like – I just… Felt like I needed to accept it. For once. Like, I – I think I spent way too long denying it and trying to ignore the things I’ve felt, but – but it felt so _good_ , Louis, to get it off my chest and just _accept_  it.”

She takes a deep breath, turns a bit to face Louis head-on, and repeats as clearly and with as much conviction as she can, “I’m gay.” It feels amazing to say it. As incredible as it felt to admit it to a room full of random strangers, this feels somehow more. It’s intense and fierce, the self-contentment she feels bubbling in her chest; she feels brave and bold right now, kind of high on the realization that she finally – _fucking finally_  – has certainty about something she’s spent most of her life questioning and denying.

The way Louis is looking at her right now certainly adds to the feeling.

“Harry, I’m…” Louis looks like she’s been rendered speechless by Harry’s rant, lips parted in surprise and eyes looking suspiciously shimmery. Her expression looks so soft – that’s the only word that can describe it. For a ridiculous moment, Harry fears that she’s made the wrong choice and Louis might be seconds away from rejecting her. The fear is squashed just as quickly as it was formed when Louis makes this helpless little sound, something like a whimper but more shaky and breathy, and practically flings her body at Harry’s. Her arms coil around Harry’s midsection, face pressed against the spot where Harry’s neck meets her shoulder. Against the warm, pale skin there, Louis murmurs, voice full of emotion, “Harry, I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re amazing.”

Harry feels nearly overwhelmed with the things she’s feeling, from the heat unraveling in her belly to the pride filling up her chest, and all she can do is nudge her head against Louis’s and slide her arms around the older girl’s soft waist. “You’re the first one I’ve really told,” Harry informs her softly, words pressed into the soft fabric of Louis’s beanie. It smells like vanilla and apple-scented shampoo and just uniquely Louis. It’s Harry’s favorite smell.

Louis holds on a bit longer before pulling away, still not separating more than a few inches from Harry. Her eyes become a brighter shade of blue when she tears up and it’s intimate knowledge that Harry feels privileged to discover. They’re close enough for Harry to see tiny faint freckles dotting Louis’s face and feel her breath brush against Harry’s skin. She feels it when Louis says, “Well, aren’t I special?” Her tone is joking, but the look in her eyes is nothing but fond and kind and happy.

Harry answers a bit more seriously than Louis was expecting. “Yes, you are,” she breathes, the beat of her heart pounding like a snare drum yet she still barrels on unthinkingly. “You really are special, Lou. I-I’m like, ninety-eight-percent sure that I have a raging crush on you.” What the _fuck_  is she doing – “You, like – You make me feel all warm inside whenever you touch me and I really like being around you and I love talking to you all the time and I think – I think I might really want to kiss you,” Harry gushes in one long ramble, not even registering what’s coming out of her mouth until all of it’s already out and there’s no way to take it back.

Her eyes are probably the size of saucers now, wide with anxiety and bewilderment towards herself and refusing to wander anywhere near Louis’s face right now, and she wants almost nothing more than to just sink into the mattress and disappear forever, but when she tries to pull out of the gentle hold she’s still caught in, Louis’s grip tightens on her. Embarrassed and startled, Harry finally forces her gaze to hesitantly meet Louis’s, and what she finds is a bit – well, it’s a bit unreadable.

The shock is there, sure, extremely evident in the lift of Louis’s eyebrows and how big her eyes have grown, so that might be disheartening on its own, but there’s also the delicious, rosy flush coloring her skin from her high cheekbones to her sharp jaw. Harry isn’t sure how to interpret the expression, isn’t sure if it’ll be good news or bad news.

Louis’s voice is infinitely tender when she quietly asks, “You want to kiss me?” For someone who looks like she would be breathless, she sounds surprisingly steady.

Too mortified by the way she senselessly blurted out her private thoughts, Harry does nothing but give a slow, subtle nod, face flaming and chest tight.

For a couple moments, there’s nothing but all-encompassing silence, no noise reaching Harry’s mind but the sound of her own heart trying to beat its way through her ribcage. And then Louis is whispering, “Then do it,” and leaning forward a mere inch and everything feels bright and electric and okay.

Her hands clutch at the back of Louis’s shirt, fingers digging through the fabric and into the warm flesh beneath, and her eyelashes are fluttering against the tops of her cheeks, soft like dove wings, nerves making her heart stumble and stutter in her chest. Something in Louis’s expression, though, something Harry reads on her face, gives Harry the final push she needs to close the remaining distance and seal their lips together.

It’s simultaneously everything she needed and nothing she expected.

Harry had kissed boys before, sure, back in high school when she believed it would be better to kiss them and feel nothing than to entertain the idea of kissing the girls she actually wanted to kiss. With the boys, there was never any spark, never that sensation of tingles and fireworks and explosions of color behind her eyelids. It was just a brush of skin, nothing more meaningful than if she had merely shaken their hands. No matter what she did with the boys, none of it was more exciting than when she’d merely brush hands with the girls in her class. It never measured up, but she went along with it because that was what she believed was necessary.

With Louis, though, feeling nothing but smooth curves under her fingertips and a soft, plush mouth pressed against hers, she figures out exactly what she’d been missing all along. With this kiss comes all the tingles and fireworks and explosions she’d been taught to expect and hope for in her younger years. With this kiss comes a need for more.

Fingers digging gently into the curve of Harry’s waist, Louis parts her lips and swipes her tongue, soft and wet, along Harry’s bottom lip, making the younger girl give a pathetic whimper. Pressing closer to the warm body held so closely against hers, Harry opens up to Louis and welcomes the soft intrusion to her mouth, feeling things she never has before. God, it’s just so fucking _different_  – more than anything, there’s actual, genuine attraction that she’d never felt with any of the boys before. It’s further verification of what her body has already known for years.

They don’t separate for what feels like ages, though it was probably no more than ten minutes. When Louis finally pulls away, there’s the most delicious flush coloring her cheeks, lips slick and swollen from the onslaught of pressure. Feeling a brief surge of bravery, Harry ducks forward to playfully bite at the older girl’s lower lip, plumper than usual. She licks at it gently once more before finally letting the kiss come to an end, tucking her head against Louis’s warm neck instead.

“God, H,” Louis murmurs, voice ragged and affected. Harry feels a surge of pride at the sound of it; _she_  did that, _she_  made that happen. “You’re incredible.” The sweet words flutter over the soft hair curling over Harry’s ear.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” Harry murmurs, breath falling in light pants against Louis’s throat.

“I know, babe,” Louis answers, patient and kind and so Louis that it makes Harry’s heart hurt. “I really like you, Harry.”

Harry’s chest clenches from the sheer honesty of Louis’s words. She ponders her own feelings, a bit unsure of what to say in response, but the realization hits her hard, stealing her breath. “I like you too, Lou. I really do.”

*

At the last meeting of the Body Positivity Association, they repeat the same confidence-building activity they had done at the very first meeting. It’s been a couple weeks since Louis had asked Harry to be her girlfriend (after at least two weeks of skirting around the topic, much to Harry’s amusement _and_  annoyance), and Harry thinks it’s safe to say that her self-esteem hasn’t been this high in years. Every day, whenever the two are together, Louis takes it upon herself to snuggle close and whisper sweet words of encouragement, praise, and reverence. Sometimes it’s to say how beautiful Harry looks when she’s just woken up, and sometimes it’s to express how awed Louis is by Harry’s intelligence and kindness.

It’s the best kind of confidence boost, and Harry finds that she can stand in front of a mirror and not think quite as many negative things as she once did.

When they’re instructed to write down the things they like about themselves, Harry doesn’t shake, tremble, or sweat. Instead, she writes more than ten.

*

“Fuck, Harry, you have no idea what you do to me,” Louis whimpers.

They’re in the middle of one of their increasingly frequent (as in something that occurs no less than three times a day by now) makeout sessions in Louis’s bedroom, and Harry has taken a breathless pause from kissing Louis silly to mouth, lick, and bite at her pulse point. She makes it a point to suck and nibble hard enough to draw blood to the surface, boiling just under her girlfriend’s skin and morphing the patch of tan flesh into a dark, sensitive bruise. It’s one of the things that Harry knows drives Louis wild.

“I think I have an idea,” Harry murmurs, a ghost of a smirk pressed against the hickey she’s just created. She nips playfully at Louis’s collarbone.

“God, babe,” Louis groans. Abruptly, the older girl props herself up on her elbows, peering down at Harry with pupils blown wide and lips puffy from their previous kissing. “Can I touch you?”

And just like that, Harry feels her confidence drop. “I… _Lou_ …”

It’s not like they haven’t gone farther than making out. Harry _loves_  exploring Louis’s gorgeous body, absolutely adores making her writhe in pleasure and see stars. The problem is that she’s never allowed Louis to reciprocate. Every time Louis reaches for her to return the favor or make her feel as good as she does, Harry backs out of her reach and declines the attempt, making up excuses like, “I’m too tired,” or, “This was just about you, Louis, I don’t need to come too,” or, “I’ll be late for class, maybe next time.”

Louis isn’t stupid; Harry knows that. She knows Louis is already highly suspicious of her behavior and reluctant attitude. She also knows Louis would never pressure her into anything, and she feels bad for denying Louis of her desire to pleasure Harry, but she just… _Can’t_.

Louis sighs, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “What is it, babe? C’mon, Harry, you know you can talk to me about anything. If there’s any sort of problem, I want to know what it is so I can try to help.”

Harry rocks back on her heels before plopping down on the mattress, legs crossed and eyes fixed on her own lap. “It’s just…” She can’t bring herself to finish the thought, letting out a regretful sigh as she plasters a half-hearted smile onto her face and gives Louis a pleading look, wishing she would let it go. She doesn’t want to have to explain. “It’s nothing, Lou, don’t worry about it.”

Louis doesn’t give in this time. “Babe,” she says, voice more stern than before as she reaches out to cup Harry’s face with one hand, thumb stroking over the flushed apple of her cheek. “I just want to help.”

For a moment, Harry thinks she might just outright refuse to talk to Louis about it. She plans to, anyway. But when she focuses on Louis, drinks in the plaintive, confused look on her face, she can’t bring herself to keep it bottled up again. Still, though, it’s hard.

“I’m not…” She sucks in a shaky breath, trying to push the words out. “Completely confident in my body, Lou… Like, I-I know that I feel better about a lot of things about myself, thanks to you and the club, but… It’s the one thing I can’t help but feel self-conscious about.”

Louis looks stricken, taken aback by the admission. There’s a certain measure of determination and affection in her eyes, though, something that speaks volumes of how she feels about Harry. “But you’re so beautiful, Harry. I don’t understand how you can’t see that.”

Harry shakes her head, her eyes falling shut with a sigh. “I’ve, like. I’ve spent a lot of time hating my body for so many things, Lou. For the way it reacted to girls. For the way it _didn’t_  react to boys. For being too long, for being too lanky and gangly and awkward, for making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. My legs are too long, my hands are too big, my collarbones are too sharp, my boobs are too small, my thighs are too thick, and my stomach and hips have this stupid bit of fat that will never go away. I just… Don’t like it.” Her voice wavers at the end, the resentful fire that was fueling her rant dying out and giving way to unadulterated insecurity.

To her surprise, Louis’s reaction isn’t to pity her or try to drown her in consoling words. Instead, the first thing she does is lurch forward to kiss Harry, more gently than she had before. The touch on her cheek is tender, Louis’s thumb still slowly, reverently gliding over the pink blush warming her skin. “You have no idea how seriously gorgeous you are,” Louis whispers against her lips. It’s a statement rather than a question, disbelief and realization coloring her soft voice. “My sweet girl,” she murmurs, nipping at Harry’s lip before pulling away a couple inches. “Harry… I want to show you. I want to make you understand how much I absolutely adore your body, even if you don’t. Even if you have it in your head that it’s not worthy of that attraction. I think you’re so incredibly beautiful, inside _and_  out, and I want to show you. Would you let me do that?”

Harry’s first reaction is to shy away and say no, turn down her offer without a second thought. But for once, Harry _lets_  herself have a second thought. She thinks about it, really fucking thinks about it, and the more she does so, the more she realizes how much she actually does want it. She wants to feel beautiful, she wants to feel the same pleasure she’s been giving to Louis nearly every day, and despite her insecurities, deep down, she wants to expose every part of herself, even the bad parts, to her wonderful girlfriend, who has done nothing but adore her and worship the ground she walks on. To genuinely believe that Louis would do anything but that when faced with Harry’s body is kind of ludicrous, now that she tries to put it in a more objective light. She wants Louis. More than that, she trusts her.

Feeling shaky but more certain about it than she had expected, Harry nods slowly. “Yeah, you can… You can do that, Lou.”

The last thing Harry hears Louis say before closing the distance again is a whispered, “Thank God,” Harry’s following whimper swallowed by Louis’s mouth on hers. The touch of Louis’s slick tongue against hers makes a light shiver dance along Harry’s spine, like it always does, and she lets Louis slowly maneuver her around and lower her onto the bed to lie on her back. They had shed all of their heavy outerwear before falling into bed the first time, so they only have on their shirts and jeans as Louis presses Harry into the mattress, one hand tangled in Harry’s hair while the other is affectionately stroking the line of her jaw.

Gradually, the kisses grow shorter, Louis merely pecking Harry on the lips one more time before moving down to drag her tongue flat along the curve of Harry’s throat. Harry knows she’s already learned most of Harry’s soft spots by now, so she half-expects it when Louis dives right in to nip at the sensitive place right below Harry’s jaw on the side of her neck, eyelashes brushing against her earlobe. Despite seeing it coming, she’s still ridiculously affected. “Fuck,” Harry groans, hands clutching at Louis’s waist almost desperately.

Louis licks a hot path down her throat until she can close her lips around the sharp jut of Harry’s left collarbone and suck. The warm suction of her mouth coaxes a long moan out of Harry, whose head is thrown back against Louis’s pillow, her girlfriend’s familiar scent engulfing her as she feels Louis lap at her skin delicately. “I happen to like your collarbones,” Louis mutters softly against the wet skin. “Very much, in fact.”

Harry feels a light tugging at the hem of her band shirt, prompting her to open her eyes and look down at Louis. Seeing the unspoken question in her bright eyes, Harry nods her consent, telling her, “You can take it off, Lou,” when her girlfriend still hesitates.

Louis ducks down towards Harry’s abdomen as her hands start to slowly push the fabric up, pressing a barrage of gentle kisses all over her skin as more of it is exposed, mouth following the hem of her shirt as it’s finally lifted up and off. For a minute, Louis just sits between Harry’s legs and stares, a hunger in her eyes that Harry’s never seen there so clearly before.

“Lou?” Harry checks, feeling a bit nervous. She resists the urge to cover up, feeling hyperaware of the softness of her stomach, the layer of chub that still lingers on her hips, the breasts that are perched on her chest, small and pert and inadequate.

“God, Harry, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Louis breathes, snapping out of her daze as she immediately lowers her face to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses across the planes of her stomach and torso. When she nips at Harry’s tummy, the younger girl exhales shakily, feeling heat bloom below Louis’s mouth. “Love your stomach, Harry. Love your hips too.”

Hands slowly exploring more skin than Harry has ever dared to show her before, Harry watches with glazed eyes as Louis discovers the notches of her ribcage, the dip in her waist, the love handles on Harry’s sides that endear the younger girl even more to Louis, sliding around to learn the curve of Harry’s spine. The touch travels higher up Harry’s back until her fingers catch on the blue material of her bra. The quiet words, “Can I?” are whispered against Harry’s sternum. Louis waits patiently for Harry’s answer, a soft utterance of approval, before she undoes the clasp and slowly draws the garment off of Harry’s lean figure.

“Fuck,” Louis groans at the sight below her. Harry’s nipples are already stiff from the attention Louis has been lavishing her body with, standing firm and perky and a dusky pink that contrasts sweetly with Harry’s pale skin. Her breasts fill a B cup just as nicely as they fill Louis’s hands, groping the soft flesh as gently as she can. The intimate touch raises goosebumps along Harry’s skin, but the slow swipe of Louis’s thumb over one of her hard nipples draws a pleased whimper from Harry. “They’re perfect, sweetheart,” Louis assures her, voice reverent and honest as she dips down to flick her hot tongue over one of Harry’s pert buds.

“Sh-Shit,” Harry whines. Her voice has a breathy quality to it that it only ever gets when she’s touching herself. She feels almost overcome with sheer lust. One of her hands slides up Louis’s back to grasp gently at the back of her head, fingers raking through her hair. She can’t repress her moan when Louis closes her soft lips around her nipple, tongue laving over the hard bud as she suckles.

Louis’s other hand starts playing with the other nipple, her touch oddly curious as she merely caresses the skin. When Harry moans increase in volume, breath hitching on every other inhale, Louis hums against her nipple, the light vibrations making Harry arch her back with a groan. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” the older of the two observes, sounding fond and delighted at the new information. Abruptly, she switches to latch onto the other nipple and let her fingertip circle the other one, which is now shining and wet from her mouth.

“F-Feels so good, Lou, fuck,” Harry whimpers, fidgeting and writhing underneath her girlfriend when she curiously grazes her teeth against the sensitive tip before biting down as lightly as possible. It’s the tiniest bit painful, but the ache only adds to Harry’s pleasure, teaching her something that not even she had ever known about herself.

Louis starts to pull her mouth away with one final kiss pressed against the soft underside of Harry’s breast, her fingers continuing their ministrations as she kisses across Harry’s bare shoulder. Her lips glide down Harry’s bicep, smoothing more light kisses down her arm until she reaches Harry’s hand. “I happen to also like your hands just as they are,” Louis murmurs, kissing each individual finger in-between words. A playful grin stretches across her lips. “Besides, they’re just big enough to grope my ass as effectively as possible.”

Despite the intimate situation, Harry finds herself barking out a sharp laugh, throwing her hand over her mouth in embarrassment immediately after. She can see the fondness in Louis’s eyes, though, and ends up lowering it so it’s no longer concealing her dorky grin, dimples probably on full display.

Mirroring Harry’s expression, Louis moves over to kiss Harry’s other palm, pressing her lips gently against her wrist as Harry watches, nearly overcome with emotion. She’s never been touched and handled so delicately, so lovingly, like she’s something precious that should be cherished. It’s startlingly heartwarming.

Eventually, Harry can feel Louis hands marking a path down her abdomen, stopping when they catch on the waistband of her skinny jeans. She swallows against the nerves as Louis nips at her love handles, meeting her questioning blue eyes after a moment of uncertainty. “Go ahead, Lou,” she says, the answer to a question that wasn’t voiced aloud.

Harry watches with a surprisingly steady gaze as her girlfriend pops open the button on her jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly enough that Harry could easily object and stop it from going any further if she changed her mind. She doesn’t.

The jeans are tugged down and discarded as slowly as the shirt was, dropped to the carpet beside the bed with a soft thud. Harry’s left only in her banana-printed socks and gray panties, her cheeks flushing when she realizes that there’s most likely a visible damp spot on the crotch. Still, Louis doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Like with Harry’s arms, Louis starts a slow trail of kisses down Harry’s left leg, eyes locked on Harry’s the whole time until she reaches her ankle and slips the sock off of that foot. “You have amazing legs, babe,” Louis says, running one hand up the side of Harry’s calf. “Like a supermodel, I swear.” She gives the top of it a light peck before shifting over an inch or two to start on the other foot, tugging the sock off and slowly making her way up the right leg, her plush mouth burning a path along Harry’s skin. Before Harry knows it, she has her lovely, flushed girlfriend perched between her knees, fingers toying with the waistband of her panties.

“God, _please_ , Louis,” Harry pleads, already so wet from everything that’s led up to this point. “ _Touch me_.”

Louis’s never been one to deny Harry of much. Almost immediately after the words are spoken, Louis leans down between Harry’s thighs and presses the flat of her tongue against the damp spot on her underwear, the warmth of her mouth seeping through the flimsy fabric and making Harry groan louder than she has all evening. The piece of ruined material is pulled down her legs and flung off the bed to join the rest of her clothes on the floor, leaving Harry completely bare and exposed. Despite being completely naked while her girlfriend is still fully dressed, Harry’s never felt so comfortable with her own body.

Louis seems to hold off on touching Harry there just yet, instead turning her head to kiss and suck bruises into her thighs, teeth gently sinking into the soft flesh there to make Harry whimper. “Fuck, your thighs,” Louis groans, sounding a bit wrecked herself, even though she hasn’t even been touched. While Harry’s so concentrated on the feeling of Louis licking over the newly-formed hickeys, she doesn’t realize Louis’s hand is making its way towards her crotch until she finally feels her fingers there, gasping at the sensation of being touched so intimately.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re okay,” Louis murmurs against a fresh bruise, fingertips dipping into Harry’s slick folds to simply stroke over her opening. Her thumb is what makes Harry outright moan, though, stretching up to circle around her clit.

“Fuck, Louis, please, please, please,” Harry chants breathlessly, hips canting up to chase the pressure against the sensitive nub.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Louis softly assures her, finally trailing her mouth away from her thigh and towards where Harry needs it most. Sliding her fingers to the side for a bit, Louis presses her tongue to the bottom of Harry’s slit before slowly dragging it upward, slipping between the warm folds with the pressure she applies. Moving her thumb out of the way, she slips her tongue, even wetter with Harry’s fluids, over her exposed clit, closing her lips around it the same way she had with Harry’s nipples.

The pleasure exploding behind Harry’s eyelids is fucking amazing, a sensation beyond anything she’s ever felt. The soft suction of Louis’s mouth against her clit, the most sensitive part of her, combined with her tongue tracing shapes and figures over it at an almost leisurely pace, is making Harry see stars like never before. While she’s moaning wantonly, hands flying down to tangle in Louis’s hair desperately, she feels Louis bring her fingers back to her wet slit, slowly slipping her index and middle fingers inside of her.

The intrusion is slightly uncomfortable, mostly since Harry generally avoids fingering when she’s masturbating, but she’s also highly curious how it’ll feel to receive that kind of stimulation. She’s never encountered her own G-spot before, so she has no idea what to expect when Louis starts to curl her fingers.

It’s better than anything Harry could have anticipated – _fuck_. The pleasure washes over her in crashing waves, coursing through her veins like molten gold. She can’t help writhing in Louis’s hold, thighs clamping down on Louis’s hunched shoulders as the older girl starts to rub her fingertips in circles against that spot inside of her.

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, please,” Harry begs, not giving a single fuck about how desperate she sounds. With everything that Louis has done to her so far, Harry already feels so fucking _close_. When Louis quickens the swirl of her tongue and starts to suck on her sensitive clit, fingers still buried inside, Harry reflexively tugs on the long hair threaded through her fingers, her moans growing more and more high-pitched and desperate with every passing moment.

Apparently, Louis really fucking appreciates the rough hair-pulling (something Harry will definitely have to look into at a later time) because she suddenly releases a deep moan in response to the yank. The result is a brief onslaught of vibrations against her spit-slick clit, giving Harry that final push over the edge and bringing her to the most powerful climax she’s ever experienced, clenching tight around Louis’s fingers.

It takes at least ten minutes to recover, mostly because Louis doesn’t let up on her ministrations and continues to lick, suck, and finger her for all she’s worth until she brings her to yet another shuddering orgasm before finally easing off and letting her come down from the high. Her fingers are absolutely soaked when she slips them out, and Harry gives a feeble whimper at the sight of Louis licking her fluids off of the wet digits. “You taste so good, Harry, fuck,” Louis murmurs. “So sweet.”

Harry can’t even thank her for the sentiment, too tired to do anything but pant and yank Louis down into the circle of her arms for a heated kiss.

They don’t break apart for a few minutes, Harry needing a bit of time to catch her breath, but when she does pull away from Louis, it’s only to flip them over, leaving Louis on her back with a naked, flushed Harry hovering over her.

“Your turn.”

*

Harry doesn’t think she’s ever been this happy about her life.

She somehow managed to ace most of her final exams, earning A’s and B’s in all of her courses, and she’s found friends in Niall, Barbara, her RA Zayn, Liam, and Perrie. Not to mention _Louis_. Louis is the best thing that’s happened to her in a long time.

Before starting college, Harry had no confidence to speak of. Sure, she was plenty comfortable with friends and family, but she’d never liked seeing herself and she had trouble understanding why anyone would like her or find her worthwhile. Over the course of just one semester, Louis changed all of that.

That isn’t to say that Harry had confidence oozing out of her ears, but she had a much healthier self-esteem and self-worth than she had before. She’d built her up to the point of being able to look at herself in the mirror and not immediately find things to hate and be disappointed about. Instead, she helped Harry be able to see herself in a new light, adopting a more positive attitude about herself and her body.

The best part of her new self-image was that instead of just seeing the good things Louis said about her, Harry found herself discovering things that _she_  likes about herself. Harry likes the way her hair curled over her shoulders, likes the little mole on her forearm, likes her slender fingers, likes her pigeon-toed feet, likes the shape of her lips. She likes her intelligence, likes her kindness, likes so many more things about herself than she has since she was a naïve child.

She feels happy. She feels beautiful too.

Another amazing thing that came out of this semester was her new pride of her sexuality, something she could finally feel certain and secure about. For years, she had doubted herself, had thought she was “broken” or wrong for feeling the things that she did, but she now had the strength and confidence to accept the fact that she likes girls. Or rather, more accurately, she likes _Louis_.

A week into winter break, she had called Louis to tell her that she was thinking about coming out to her family. Louis, ever the supportive girlfriend, had encouraged her endlessly and told her that she’d be there for her, whether she decided to tell them or not. In the end, Harry blurted it out, much like she had when coming out to Louis, at dinner one night. Her sister Gemma had dropped the bread roll she’d been grabbing from the basket, her mother Anne had lost her grip on her fork and sent it clattering onto her plate, and her step-dad Robin had nearly choked on a mouthful of water.

It wasn’t the most elegant coming out, but it was one of her happiest moments. Despite their initial shock at being told something massive so suddenly and unexpectedly, her family was incredibly supportive and accepting.

“Harry, you know we don’t have a problem with that sort of thing,” her mom had said, eyes kind and warm. “We’d never judge you for something like that.”

“That was pretty abrupt, though,” Robin had said light-heartedly. “Next time you spring something so big on us, give us more of a warning, okay?”

Harry remembers she had teared up at that moment, feeling completely overwhelmed with happiness. “Are you sure you’re – you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” her mom had asked, sounding a bit perplexed.

“Well, I mean, I know you were expecting me to get married to some man and give you a son-in-law and grandchildren and stuff, so–”

“Hey, excuse you,” Gemma had objected, pretending to be highly offended. “You’re not their only daughter, y’know.”

Harry had snorted, wiping at the stubborn tear rolling down her cheek.

“Honey, there are always other options for children. Adoption, surrogacy, or not having kids at all. Besides, we couldn’t care less whether you give us a son-in-law or a daughter-in-law. We’ll love whoever you choose to marry, no matter what their gender is,” Anne had reassured her, coming around the table to pull her out of her chair and hug her.

“Well, unless they end up being a good-for-nothing jackass who doesn’t–”

“ _Robin_!”

Harry smiles now at the memory, ridiculously glad that she had summoned the courage to be honest with her family. Of course, though, it had presented a new worry for Louis, which she is currently expressing to Harry over the phone.

“Harry, what if they hate me?” Louis whines, voice laced with quiet static.

Harry flops over on her bed, staring at the posters plastered over her bedroom walls. As much as she loves the campus and her dorm, there’s nothing like the familiarity of being at home in her own room. She can hear quiet thuds coming from downstairs, the noises of her parents and Gemma setting up the last of the Christmas decorations. She felt a bit guilty, but Harry had begged off helping them do it, saying she was tired from her shift at the bakery earlier. It wasn’t a complete lie since she _is_  tired from the shift, but she knows she wasn’t too tired to help them. She mostly just wants the time to talk to Louis before tonight.

“They’re not going to hate you, Lou, shut up,” Harry tells her, curling up in her sheets as she closes her eyes and listens to Louis talk.

“But what if they do? I don’t want your family to hate me. What if they think I’m no good for you and tell you to break it off with me? What if–”

“If they tell me to leave you, I won’t listen,” Harry answers simply. Honestly, it’s not a hard decision. Even if her family does end up somehow hating Louis when they meet her, Harry would just do everything in her power to change their minds and see how wonderful Louis is.

Louis sighs, still sounding anxious and a bit forlorn. “I miss you,” she murmurs, soft and quiet like it’s a secret.

Harry whispers back, “I miss you too.” She lets the peaceful silence that follows last for a few minutes before quietly asking, “When do you think you’ll get here?”

“‘Bout to leave in half an hour, so probably around seven o’clock.”

They stay on the phone until Louis gets into her car, leaving Harry to take a nap in her room in the meantime, and sure enough, when seven o’clock rolls around, she’s stirred from her brief slumber by the sound of her ringtone.

“‘Lo?” Harry mumbles sleepily, trying to rub the bleariness out of her eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Louis’s fond voice greets her.

“Hey, boo,” Harry returns with a smile, starting to sit up in bed and kick her legs over the side. “You almost here?”

“Yup, about ten minutes away, I think. Prepare your family for me.” Despite the bravado in her voice, Harry can tell that Louis is still immensely nervous.

“Stop worrying yourself into a frenzy, Lou.” Harry stands up and opens up her wardrobe to grab a sweater that she can pull over her shirt. She ends up going for her worn-out lavender one since she knows it’s Louis’s favorite on her. “I know my family and they’re going to absolutely adore you. Just like I do.”

“Sap,” Louis accuses, but there’s no bite in her voice. She sounds like she’s probably smiling. “Alright, I’m turning the corner onto… Mulberry? S’that close?”

“Yup, just a few minutes away,” Harry confirms, leaving her room to go rejoin her family downstairs. When she bounds down the stairs and sees them sitting together in the living room, looking anxious as hell, she rolls her eyes. “Pay attention to the road, Louis. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay, love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

She slips her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans and makes her way towards where her parents and sister are huddled together on the long couch. She plops herself onto the smaller two-seater sofa and gives them all a pointed look.

“We’re just nervous,” Gemma grumbles, biting at her thumbnail.

“Well, don’t be,” Harry instructs. “I swear, you all are worrying for no reason. You’re going to love her, she’s going to love you, and everything is going to be fine.”

Her mom sighs, giving Harry a grateful smile. “If you say so, baby.”

Harry’s busy complimenting them on a job well done with the Christmas tree and decorations when the doorbell rings. Her phone buzzes with a text at the same time, so there’s no doubt who’s standing outside.

The moment she opens the door, she’s attacked with one of the fiercest hugs she’s ever received from Louis, but she has no problem returning it just as tightly. It’s one-armed until Louis unceremoniously drops her duffel bag onto the floor to fling the other arm around Harry as well. Louis’s wearing Harry’s favorite sweater on her too, along with the scarf Harry gifted her with before break as a congratulations for doing well on exams, and she smells like vanilla and apple-scented shampoo, like always. It’s so familiar and wonderful and Harry feels like she might cry. “I missed you so much,” she whispers into Louis’s soft hair, clinging to her like a koala bear.

“I missed you too,” Louis says with a watery laugh. They keep holding onto each other for several more minutes, quietly basking in the closeness after being apart for so long, until the sound of someone clearing their throat startles them apart.

Harry sheepishly looks back towards where her family is still not-so-patiently-anymore waiting for her to introduce her girlfriend, who’s looking more anxious and uncertain than she had a mere minute ago, apparently having been caught up in the reunion. Nevertheless, Harry slips her hand down to link with Louis’s free hand, ignoring her sweaty palm, and leads her away from the front door and towards the living room where her family awaits.

Standing in front of Harry’s family, Louis fidgets beside the younger girl, clearing her throat awkwardly before lurching forward to offer her hand out to no one in particular. “Hi, it’s great to meet you, I’m Harry’s girlfriend, Louis,” she rushes out in one breath.

Anne is the one who jumps up to take the proffered hand, shaking it politely as she greets Louis. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Louis, Harry’s told us so much about you.”

At that, Louis finally relaxes a bit, glancing back at Harry with a fond smile. “Good things, I hope,” she jokes, directing her smile towards Anne again.

“Of course, of course,” Anne returns with her own friendly smile. “I’m Anne, Harry’s mother, and this is my husband, Robin, and Gemma, Harry’s sister.”

Louis goes around to shake their hands too, though Gemma surprises everyone by yanking Louis into an unexpected hug. Harry has a feeling it’s out of more than tactile friendliness when she catches Gemma whisper something into Louis’s ear and Louis has wide eyes when she steps out of the embrace. She nods almost imperceptibly, backing into Harry’s space around to curl an arm around her waist. Harry shoots her a questioning look, but it’s dismissed by Louis shaking her head lightly, giving her a warm, affectionate grin.

“You have a lovely home,” Louis compliments after everyone’s sat back down again, clearly a lot more at ease now that she can see that they don’t want to bite her head off or anything of the sort. “Wonderful decorations too.” Harry sees her eyeing the raggedy angel atop the Christmas tree that Harry made with popsicle sticks, puffy paint, and white fabric when she was six or seven. She blushes as Louis says with a playful smirk, “Very whimsical, some of them.”

Gemma follows Louis’s line of vision and snorts in agreement.

“Hey,” Harry protests, “I was only a kid. It’s not my fault Mom thought it was cute enough to put on the tree every following year.”

“Pretty sure you begged her to,” Gemma teases.

Louis jumps in to join the banter, followed by Anne not long after, Robin throwing in a couple of comments every now and then.

At one point, Harry stays silent in the conversation, watching as her family welcomes Louis so easily into their home and talks to her like she’s always belonged. She’s so happy and touched that she honestly can’t but lean over and kiss her girlfriend on the cheek, seemingly out of the blue. Louis pauses mid-sentence, blinks in surprise, and looks over to return the gesture, pecking Harry on the lips instead of saying, “What was that for,” like most people would have. She doesn’t have to ask. She resumes her sentence as Harry watches on in contentment, holding Harry that much closer to her side.

For the first time in a long while, Harry thinks she has everything she could ever want.


End file.
